


Give Me Love, Give Me Vertigo

by gallantrejoinder



Series: Vertigo [1]
Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Hopeful Ending, Implied Mutual Masturbation, It's holistic don't worry about it, M/M, Masturbation, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Pining, do not copy to another site, implied mutual pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-15 06:42:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20861927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gallantrejoinder/pseuds/gallantrejoinder
Summary: They were both paralysed at the time, so Todd's not gonna think about it. It'd be weird and creepy to obsess about the time your best friend lay on top of you in a hotel bed because you both got shot by time travelling lawnmower salesmen. Wouldn't it?





	Give Me Love, Give Me Vertigo

**Author's Note:**

> Note: this fic contains a scene of non-consensual drugging. It's partially played for humour but the characters are paralysed and manipulated during this time. If you want more detailed warnings, see the end notes.
> 
> Title taken from [this.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uS7dtw6lREo/)

Todd may have a lot of issues processing his own emotions, but he’s thirty-four years old, he’s rebuilding his relationship with his family, he has a job that fulfils him and friends who he loves, and he’s damn well aware that he’s in love with Dirk Gently. He’s also fully aware that Dirk doesn’t love him back – not in the same way, and that’s _okay_. Todd’s made his peace with that.

Dirk loves Todd far more than Todd deserves anyway. Dirk loves Todd like Todd’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him, like Todd’s the best friend Dirk’s been waiting for forever – and, of course, Todd knows that he is. Despite everything about him, Todd’s the one that the Universe apparently chose just for Dirk, and Dirk, amazingly, has _no complaints_.

Todd’s not going to give him a reason to complain either, which is why he’s going to keep all his feelings to himself until they pass. It’s like a pararibulitis attack. He just has to keep breathing, has to picture himself removing the knife from his heart, has to imagine that his heart can heal from such a grievous wound – and then, like magic, it will fade.

Of course, no matter how unrelentingly terrible a pararibulitis attack is in the moment, it will at some point end. Todd can’t say the same for his Dirk-related feelings. Holding his breath whenever his chest is struck through with the sharp pain of longing for something more? That’s all right, he’s good at it by now. But waiting for the ache to disappear entirely?

Impossible.

It would all be a lot easier, though, if the Universe didn’t seem so hell-bent on torturing Todd with the inevitability of his own feelings. Case in point: This _stupid_ case they’re on. It’s a simple matter – at first. It always is. Events, however, proceed at a distinctly Dirkian pace.

They’d begun by tracking the international faerie mob drug ring lackeys to their hotel room, which they searched by vaguely opening and closing drawers. Unfortunately, they had then heard the distinctive sounds of the international faerie mob drug ring lackeys fiddling with the door, meaning that they were about to be caught red-handed. And then they’d panicked.

Dirk shoots a wide-eyed look Todd’s way and starts gesturing frantically, mouthing something which is probably utter fucking nonsense. Todd mouths the word _what_, before realising that arguing right now is probably not the best idea, leaping forwards, grabbing Dirk’s hand, and yanking him into the ensuite.

Good timing, too, because the door to the hotel room finally opens just as Todd gets the ensuite door closed. Dirk clambers into the bath, in lieu of literally any other option, while Todd pauses, struck with indecision, in the middle of the room. Behind the door he can hear voices, moving closer to the ensuite. He glances at Dirk, who seems quite comfortable where he is.

Bathtub it is then.

Unfortunately, Todd underestimates the sheer adrenaline rush he’s still experiencing as a result of their hasty retreat. As he lifts a foot to climb into the bath with Dirk, who’s standing perfectly still in the corner, back against the tiled wall, Todd trips. In an effort to save himself, he flings out both hands, slamming them into the tiled wall either side of Dirk’s head. His feet stumble into the tub, and the next thing he knows he’s face to face with Dirk, scant inches between them.

Dirk’s eyes are wide, and Todd freezes.

To his surprise, Dirk grins. “_Just like our first time, eh?_”

… _Case_. Their first case, with Lydia. There is absolutely no way Dirk means it the way it sounds.

Todd pulls back, feeling himself flushing. Dirk gives him a curious look and opens his mouth, but Todd shushes him, holding up a pleading finger –

And that’s Todd's second mistake. His first was letting himself get distracted at all, because in the next moment, the door to the ensuite opens, and he feels a sudden stinging pain in his neck before the floor rises up to meet him.

The last thing Todd sees before his eyes droop shut is the look of shock on Dirk’s face as a dart appears in his chest, having clearly not expected _that_.

After all this time, Todd find himself a little more resigned to the situation.

The drug, or whatever it is in the darts they’ve been shot with, doesn’t knock them out. It just paralyses them, making their bodies limp and pliable. As far as Todd can tell they’re both still breathing, and he can feel things touching him – the tile beneath his cheek is hard and cold – but he can’t move. His limbs simply aren’t responding.

The two men outside are having a whispered argument at the sight of Dirk and Todd lying prone on the floor, which probably looks a bit comical, Todd’s humble enough to admit.

“I cannot _believe_ you shot them!” The smaller of the two paces around their bodies, hysterical.

“What should I have done, let them go?” The taller sounds irritated. “Frankly, Simon, I think we ought to kill them and be done with it. It isn’t as if anyone will be able to find us once we get back to 1843.”

Oh, shit. Not faerie mob drug ring lackeys, then. Time travellers.

“No! No. We are _not_ murderers. Thieves? Yes. Extortionists? Of course. Sellers of overpriced lawnmowers? Absolutely. But _we are not murderers_!”

Well, Todd’s glad to hear that the time travellers have _some_ kind of moral code.

The first one pauses, and Todd hopes very much that they aren’t planning on arguing with that point. “The drug leaves them helpless. It should have put them right to sleep. It knocked out the elephant with no trouble. Maybe we should just leave them here?”

Simon actually stamps his foot. “We cannot just leave them here! What if someone comes in to clean? If they see a couple of passed-out layabouts on the floor they will certainly call the police!”

_Rude_, Todd thinks. It’s not his and Dirk’s fault that they’re paralysed.

“Wait a moment …” The first one sounds excited, which in Todd’s experience never bodes well coming from people who’ve captured him. “Do you not recall the occasion upon which we entered the gardens at dusk, only to discover two gentlemen in an embrace?”

“Oh, do not bring that up.”

“Ah, but don’t you see? Why not present a similar tableau with these poor sods?”

Todd very much hopes that ‘tableau’ does not mean what he thinks it means.

“Anyone entering would be certain to make assumptions and excuse himself promptly.”

Oh, no, no, _no_.

“… You may have it there, Roland. All right. Lift them onto the bed.”

It’s a weird sensation, the feeling of panic clawing its way up Todd’s throat, while he’s still completely unable to react. The one apparently called Roland puts his arms around Todd, grunting as he raises Todd’s body. Todd can feel the floor falling away from under him as he’s lifted up and set down again, his back against the mattress. Todd lies there, completely limp, as Roland removes his shoes.

“Fix up his clothes, he looks like a drunk,” Simon fusses.

If Todd could roll his eyes just then, he would. Roland tugs at his clothes until they look presentable – like the clothes of someone in control of his own movements, who’d lain down for a nap on purpose. The worst part is that Roland misses a spot anyway. There’s an uncomfortable knot of fabric digging right into Todd’s spine.

But worse than this particular humiliation – far worse – comes with the sensation of Dirk being gently laid over him.

Todd feels every single inch of Dirk pressed against him. He can feel it as Roland turns Dirk’s face into his neck. He can feel it as Dirk’s arms are manipulated into a mocking imitation of an embrace. He can feel it as Roland presses Todd’s hands to Dirk’s sides, low on his hips, even resting as limply as they are because Todd _can’t fucking move_.

He can feel Dirk breathing, steady against his neck, and wonders if Dirk is panicking as much as he is. He wishes he could – could comfort Dirk, rub a hand over his back, show him that they’re going to be okay.

The two idiot time travellers argue about exact details of the arrangement for a few minutes, while Dirk and Todd lie there like puppets with their strings cut. A few adjustments are made. Roland removes Dirk’s shoes, pulls his tie loose, and takes off his jacket. It’s the last thing on the list that makes Todd vow to himself that, given the chance, he will absolutely let Bart do whatever she wants to these guys.

And then they leave.

Todd had been able, before, to focus on his extremely justified anger at their captors for the unfortunate situation they’d found themselves in. And that had been a very good thing to be able to focus on, because it allowed him to think about anything except the fact that Dirk is pressed against him, lying bracketed by his legs as if –

As if they’re presenting a particular ‘tableau.’

The situation, Todd thinks, mind racing ahead without the good sense to protect his heart, would go something like this:

Someone comes into the room. They see two men lying on the bed. Sheets rumpled. Clothing dishevelled. They see lips against a neck, they see hands against hips, they see closed eyes – enough to assume that either these two men have fallen asleep or; if they only catch the most fleeting of glimpses, that these strangers are lost in one another. They see Dirk Gently lying between Todd Brotzman’s legs, and they can assume what they like about it.

And seeing doesn’t even begin to compare to feeling. Todd can feel the heavy weight of Dirk pressing down on his chest, restricting his breathing just a tiny bit, and he can feel the warmth of Dirk on the insides of his thighs, and he can feel the way Dirk’s breath is so even and so steady on his skin, because neither of them have a choice in this. If some outsider were to intrude on this, it would mean absolutely fuck-all to them. But to Todd, this means – it means –

It means being confronted, face to face, chest to chest, not to mention other parts of his anatomy to parts of _Dirk’s_ anatomy, with the fact that he wants Dirk so badly he can hardly breathe.

He wants Dirk in every possible way. In ways he never thought he’d want anyone. Todd’s slept with a few people – no more than he can count on one hand – but he’s never had a relationship that lasted longer than six months. At first because he was a dick, and, shocker, no one wants to be with a dick. And then … Then, it was because he couldn’t forgive himself for long enough to try deserving a relationship.

But if Dirk wanted Todd back, god. He knows he’d try.

It’s not like things would be that different, anyway. He’d do all the things for Dirk he does already. He’d bring Dirk tea, he’d get Dirk back on track when Dirk started rambling, he’d follow Dirk into the unknown time and time again.

But he’d be able to do other things for Dirk too.

He’d touch Dirk so carefully. He doesn’t know if Dirk’s ever – he doesn’t even know if Dirk’s _interested_ in sex, but if he was, Todd would make it good for him. He’d go as slow as Dirk wanted, as gently as Dirk needed. And maybe Dirk wouldn’t want to go slow, maybe Dirk would jump headfirst into it like he does with everything, but Todd would make it good anyway. He’d give himself to Dirk, and he’d give Dirk hard and fast and overwhelming. He’d do whatever Dirk wanted him to. He’d treat Dirk like –

Todd can’t even finish that thought without feeling embarrassed, disgusted by himself. What kind of right does he have to fantasise about his best friend? What kind of creep does that?

Okay, no, he’s gotta cut himself some slack here. He wouldn’t be thinking about this if he wasn’t literally lying underneath Dirk with his legs spread. Oh, Jesus, now he’s thought those words in that exact order he’s never gonna be able to unthink them.

This particular scenario – Dirk above him, Todd lying prone with his legs spread, Dirk’s lips on his neck – isn’t really one that’s crossed his mind all that often. It … has, admittedly, come up once or twice. When Todd can’t exactly stop himself, when he’s tired, when he wants to be … cared for. Todd may want to be the one to treat Dirk like he deserves, may want Dirk to tell him he’s doing a good job, that _Todd’s_ the only one who can make him feel like this but – god, there’s something to be said for letting Dirk fuck him until he forgets how to think.

And that’s the last thought that crosses Todd’s mind before Farah kicks down the door.

~

All in all, it’s one of their less remarkable cases.

After Farah determines that Dirk and Todd aren’t dead and stops panicking, they go to the hospital, wait about thirty minutes for the drugs to wear off, stay another five hours for various tests, and go home with nary a word spoken about how exactly they’d been discovered. Or at least, Dirk doesn’t say anything. Farah tries to bring it up at one point and Todd makes an embarrassing noise in an attempt to stop her. Farah doesn’t try again.

The next week passes by in a blur of faerie dust, dizzyingly complicated time travel, and sputtering lawnmowers. The time travellers are eventually returned to 1843 (more or less), while the faerie mob drug ring agree to keep their mysterious pixie dust away from the human world, as long as no one even again tries to steal their sacred _whatever-it-was-god-Todd’s-so-exhausted_. The case is solved. Everyone and everything are back where they are supposed to be.

And Todd can’t stop thinking about how close he was to Dirk.

To be fair to himself – which is a habit he’s been getting into nowadays – he does _try_ to not think about it. It’s frankly kind of weird of him to be thinking about it, considering that Dirk was paralysed at the time. But then, Todd was paralysed too, wasn’t he? It’s probably fine to think about the time your best friend lay on top of you in a hotel bed if _neither_ of you had a choice in the matter.

Oh, Jesus, this is getting so out of hand. Todd’s definitely a creep, but he just – _can’t_ stop obsessing over it. Especially when he’s not in the best state of mind. Like right now.

He’s lying in his bed, a solid week after the case has finished, trying and failing to sleep. The phantom ghost of Dirk’s breath on his neck is keeping him awake, his whole body thrumming with something he refuses to name. The weight of his heart is holding him down, pinning him to the bed.

This was so much easier to deal with before. The fucking – ‘_pangs of unrequited love_,’ or whatever the hell this is; this aching, endless want. It really wasn’t so different from pararibulitis. It wasn’t _that_ hard to imagine the feeling fading until he could sleep. But now Todd knows, he _knows_ what Dirk feels like, knows the weight of him and the smell of his skin.

In his mind’s eye, there’s a picture of the two of them, holding one another on that bed. If Todd could have moved … well, if Todd could have moved, he would have moved _away_. He’d never touch Dirk without Dirk’s permission.

But on the other hand.

If Todd could have moved, then Dirk would have been able to as well. If Farah hadn’t come in, the drug would have worn off in half an hour anyway. And it would have left them in each other’s arms for all that time.

In the hospital, the first thing Todd had been able to move once the drug began to wear off was his pinky finger. It had spread from there, over his hand, up his wrist. If he was still holding Dirk, he would have run his hand along Dirk’s side. It would have been a way to say, _I’m here. I’m sorry. Just be patient_. A way to speak without words, like they so often do nowadays, practically reading each other’s intentions before they can even open their mouths.

And maybe Dirk would start to feel it too, would sense the drug wearing off. Maybe he … Maybe he wouldn’t move away. Maybe he’d pull Todd in closer.

Todd feels a jolt of something low inside him. He shouldn’t lean into this. He shouldn’t be thinking about this – but he is. He’s thinking about the universe in which Dirk wants him back, the universe in which Dirk would touch Todd of his own accord and not pull away before it became something neither of them could go back on.

As he traces a hand down over his body, Todd allows himself, where nobody can see him, to want.

And god, does he _want_. Todd wants Dirk to move his mouth over Todd’s neck, wants Dirk to hover so close to Todd’s lips – close enough to breathe with each other. Todd wants Dirk to kiss him. He wants to open his mouth under Dirk’s tongue, feel Dirk pressing closer. Todd wants to feel Dirk smiling as he traces Dirk’s mouth with his tongue.

He wants some impossible future, where they’re comfortable together like this, where Dirk knows how to give Todd what he needs – things Todd will never say aloud if he can help it, but which Dirk would know anyway. Todd wants Dirk to kiss him and kiss him and kiss him and then, when he can’t even begin to string two words together, to press his thighs apart.

Subconsciously, Todd feels himself mimicking the movement, even though he definitely hasn’t got the stamina tonight to try anything so – demanding. Still, it sends a thrill through him, thinking about how Dirk would fit in the space he’s created, thinking about how Dirk would press up against him. He runs a hand over the length of his cock, squeezing a little harder than he needs to, imagining the pressure.

This is his fantasy, so he doesn’t have to worry about the awkwardness that the actual act of Dirk fucking him would entail. And usually he doesn’t, but because he apparently feels like torturing himself tonight, he pictures Dirk’s laugh, pictures him struggling to open a condom. The two of them, giggling, acknowledging the inherent strangeness of being naked with another person and preparing to do frankly bizarre things with their genitalia. It almost makes him smile – he knows sex with Dirk would be like everything else with Dirk: a little goofy, a little exciting, and completely, utterly, entirely fulfilling, right down to his bones.

No. No, that hurts too much to think about. He skips forward, thinking about how it would feel to take Dirk inside him. The simmering heat he’s been stoking with this ridiculous fantasy surges, and he quickens the pace of his hand on his cock. He can’t think about it meaning something, he just wants Dirk to fuck him, that’s all.

He would want to face Dirk, if he could. It’s been years since he did anything like what he’s imagining, god knows if he even can anymore, but – he’d want to see Dirk. He’d want to take Dirk’s face in his hands, hold it close to his own, pull him in and in as Dirk drove into him. And because Todd’s feeling especially indulgent, he imagines that it’s as good for Dirk, that he’s making Dirk feel like nobody else ever has.

Todd doesn’t have to imagine that particular feeling for himself. He already knows that Dirk would make him feel things he’d never felt before – because Dirk’s already done that, in too many ways to name. Todd has no reason to think things would be any different when it came to sex.

Dirk is a bossy person, and Todd has no doubt that would translate in this scenario. Dirk might beg Todd to look at him, ask him to focus just on Dirk. He might tell Todd how well he was doing, and Todd might, finally, be able to find words of his own – to tell Dirk how good it feels, to tell him how much Dirk means to him. How Dirk changed his life.

That’s skirting too close to the shadow of a memory, something he doesn’t dare touch – something irrevocably tinged with music, and shapes, and colors, and a high unlike anything he’d ever felt before.

Probably shouldn’t think too much about that. He retraces the fantasy, feeling his hand go lax, trying to chase the feeling which had been building before he fucked it all up with impossible hopes.

An image flashes through his head – Dirk, buried inside him, legs straining. Dirk’s forehead against his, Dirk’s mouth inches away, gasping for air. Todd would lie on his back, as open and vulnerable as he never lets himself be. And Dirk would fuck him.

Dirk would take care of him.

It’s that thought that pushes Todd over the edge, right into the freefall of orgasm, and for a blissful few seconds, his mind is empty of everything but the thought of Dirk, weightless with everything he feels.

Reality has a way of intruding on moments like these.

Todd opens his eyes, feeling the relief of orgasm fade away as shame returns to lap at the shores of his consciousness. He lies there, perfectly still, hoping he hasn’t made any noise or woken anybody up – he’s quiet when he comes, always has been, but still. It’s a small apartment and he has two whole roommates to contend with.

One of whom he just got off to. He swallows, feeling the shame threaten to overwhelm him.

Okay. No point dwelling on it. No point thinking about his bed feels wide and alone and how he’s a complete creep, lusting after his best friend. Time to get up, wash his hands, get back in bed, and go to fucking sleep.

He forces himself to sit up, grab some tissues from the side of his bed, and clean up what he can. Stumbling into the hallway, he hopes desperately that no one’s awake at this time of night. For the ten seconds it takes him to get to the bathroom, he thinks he’s gotten lucky in that regard. And then he sees the crack of light peeping under the bathroom door.

Someone’s already in there.

Todd’s first instinct is to haul ass back to bed and hope that neither Farah nor Dirk catch him hovering outside the door like a weirdo. Unfortunately, the door to the bathroom opens a second later, and Todd comes face to face with the person he least wants to see.

Upon seeing Todd, Dirk’s face freezes into a very complex expression that Todd can’t quite decipher – it looks like a mixture of panic and embarrassment. He and Dirk stare at one another for a second, Todd feeling a flush creeping up his neck.

“Todd!” Dirk blurts out, before chuckling nervously. “How – unusual, erm, to run into you at this time of night, in … this part of the flat!”

Todd clears his throat. “I do live here,” he says lightly, aiming to break up the awkward tension that’s flaring between them.

He tries not to think about what’s drying on his stomach and hand – the small streaks he wasn’t able to clear up entirely because he’d been heading straight to the bathroom anyway, who would know, _oh god he’s such an idiot_.

Dirk lets out a forced laugh. “Oh, right,” he says, putting both hands on his hips in a very off-putting display of casualness. “Er.” He stands there, eyes shifting back and forth like he’s trying desperately to think of something to say.

Todd has got no idea what’s going on in Dirk’s head, but either he washes up in the next thirty seconds, or the floor opens up and swallows them both.

“Uh, well, I was just gonna …” Todd gestures with his clean hand to the bathroom behind Dirk.

Dirk jumps. “Right! Yeah! Of course. Sorry, I’ll – erm –” He does an awkward sort of dance to get around Todd. At one point they’re too close together for even the narrow hallway to really justify, and Todd feels his heart leap into his throat, but it barely lasts a second, and then Dirk is behind him, walking stiffly back to his room.

“_Sorry-Todd-good-night-Todd_,” Dirk stage-whispers, rushing over the words and not looking back.

And it’s funny. Looking at Dirk’s back retreating into the darkness, Todd should feel ashamed of himself, should feel the weight of what he just did pressing on his conscience. But he doesn’t.

He watches Dirk go and feels a lightness settle over him. There’s his best friend, and the love of his life. And however much it may hurt sometimes – still, Todd thinks, the best part of him is love. It’s _this_ love, keeping him afloat, not weighing him down.

**Author's Note:**

> Detailed content warnings: Dirk and Todd are hit with a paralysing agent which leaves them completely unable to move but fully conscious. The bad guys (portrayed as quite bumbling, not all that menacing), aren't sure what to do so they put Dirk and Todd on a hotel bed, making it look like they're embracing. The bad guys then leave. Todd and Dirk are stuck like this for a few minutes, during which Todd is freaking out because he wants to be close to Dirk but not under these circumstances. Farah then comes to the rescue and the scene ends. Todd later thinks about this scenario, and while not turned on by it, does get turned on by thinking about being close to Dirk.
> 
> If you enjoyed, please comment, I'd love to hear what you thought!!
> 
> [My Tumblr.](https://gallantrejoinder.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Psst: [teacupsandcyanide](https://teacupsandcyanide.tumblr.com/) was considering writing a followup from Dirk's perspective, if you want that go bother them lol.
> 
> ETA: SUCCESS! The fic exists right [here.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21010367/)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Yes, I Am Ill, Cannot Get My Balance](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21010367) by [glasgowbones](https://archiveofourown.org/users/glasgowbones/pseuds/glasgowbones)


End file.
